For the Win (Playing for Keeps Book 1) (18 page)

“Dexter!” I hollered. “Dexter!”

The door leading from the garage to the kitchen popped open, and Dexter’s head poked into the room appearing terror stricken. “What?”

I struggled to catch my breath, to speak. London was still twitching and jerking around on the ground. Thank god there were no objects or furniture near her. “It’s London. She’s…I think she’s having a seizure.”

Dexter sprang into action, racing into the family room and falling to his knees beside her. “Call 911. Now!”

I nodded, hot and cold flashes ripping up my spine. My fingers were shaking so badly it was difficult to extract the phone from my pocket. Even when I got it out, it was a challenge to dial since my fingers were slick with sweat. Turning my back, I walked into the kitchen, unable to watch London’s seizure any longer. It was too painful.

After giving all the information to the 911 operator, I returned to the family room. London’s body was still, but she was out cold. Why wasn’t she regaining consciousness?

“The ambulance is on its way,” I said, my tone hollow.

Dexter peered up at me, defeat written in the lines of his face.

“Dexter, what’s happening?” I stared down at London’s stiff body, grateful when I detected the slight rise and fall of her chest.

“I don’t know, son.” His tone was resigned.

Oh hell, no.
He couldn’t give up now. London was going to make it. She had to.

London

The doctor’s words had been like a splash of iced cold water to my face. They woke me up in a harsh and unforgiving way.

A bone marrow transplant was my only chance of surviving this.

No other treatment would work.

Without a transplant, I would die.

Sitting in the hospital bed, I picked at the white sheet with my fingers, fear consuming every part of my being. The window to my right overlooked another hospital building. I missed the trees outside my bedroom window, the green grass, and the colorful flowers. Everything about this place screamed death; from its sterile scent to its white walls.

“Hey,” Cooper’s voice rang out in the room.

I craned my neck to see him standing in the doorway. It should be a sin to look that good in a place like this.

“Hey,” I responded.

His brows furrowed as he came further into the room. “What’s wrong?” Grabbing the chair in the corner, he dragged it along the ground and set it next to my bed.

“Besides the fact that I had a seizure earlier today and now I’m in the hospital, not much,” I said sarcastically.

“But look at you now. You’re back to your old feisty self, so that’s a good sign, right?”

I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to cheer me up, to make me smile. And usually it worked. But not today.

He scooted forward. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

Cooper’s hands found mine, our fingers tangling together on top of the stiff sheets. “I know, baby.”

“No, I’m really scared.” My lips trembled, and a tear slid down my face. “I’m not ready to die, Coop. I’m only seventeen.” The words were coming out garbled, sobs breaking in between them. My nose dripped, my cheeks wet. Cooper released my hands and reached up to brush away the tears with his thumbs. “I thought I had my whole life ahead of me. There are so many things I haven’t done.”

“And we’ll do them.” His thumb was soft and warm against my prickly, wet cheek.

“When?”

“When you get out of here.”

“
If
I get out of here,” I said sourly.

“You will.” His hand was still on my face. It felt good, yet I missed when his fingers used to tangle in my hair.

Grabbing his hand, I lowered it into my lap and stared deeply into his eyes. I needed him to hear me, to grasp what I was saying. “Cooper.” By using his full name, I knew I had his attention. “It’s not looking promising for me. My only hope of living is to have a bone marrow transplant, and it has to be soon.”

“Did they find out if your dad was a match yet?”

I froze. “How did you know my dad was tested?”

Dad had insisted on being tested the minute I was diagnosed in case it ever came to this. However, the doctor didn’t seem too optimistic about it.
Parents are rarely matches. Siblings, however, are the best bet. Too bad I didn’t have one.

“Um…” Cooper’s gaze shot to our hands. He rolled my fingers around, scrutinizing them intently. “He told me about it.”

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. It seemed that Cooper and Dad talked a lot more often than I realized. “Well, it doesn’t matter, because he’s not a match.”

“He’s not?”

“Nope.” Shaking my head, panic bloomed inside my chest. “So now my doctor will look through the donor registry and try to find me one.” I didn’t bother adding how dismal my chances of finding a match were.

A nurse whisked into the room, her pants whispering with each step. She was different from the one I’d had earlier. “Just need to check your vitals, hon.”

“Um…that’s fine. I’m going to step out for a minute.” Cooper stood, stamping a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

Puzzled, I watched his retreating back as he scurried from the room. Perhaps it was finally becoming too much for him. I couldn’t even imagine how horrible it must have been for him to see me have a seizure. And now to see me lying in a hospital bed hooked up to IV’s and monitors, knowing that I may not survive. That’s some pretty heavy shit.

As I held out my arm so the nurse could check my pulse rate and blood pressure, I stared at my hands, remembering how it felt when Cooper threaded his fingers through mine. Remembering how soft and warm his skin was, how it heated me up from the inside out. Closing my eyes, I conjured up the memory of his lips on mine, and I realized something.

I realized that Dad was right. With Cooper I was more alive. I’d lived more in the past eight months than I had in the seventeen years before that.

And maybe that was enough.

After the nurse left, Dad came into the room. “How ya doing, pumpkin?” He took the chair that Cooper had vacated. When Cooper had sat in it, it had appeared normal sized, but with Dad’s massive frame the chair now resembled a child sized one.

“I’ve been better,” I said, but forced a smile for Dad’s sake. I couldn’t tell him what I’d told Cooper about being scared. Dad was scared enough for the both of us, and I didn’t need to add to that.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a match.” Dad’s tone was tinged in sadness. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” Sitting up, I adjusted the pillow behind my back. However, no amount of adjusting would make this bed comfortable. I’d slept on floors more plush than this.

“I know, but I wanted to be so badly.”

“I know.” Out in the hall was a flurry of desperate voices, beeping, footsteps clattering. It made my stomach clench. I longed for home, for my bed, for quiet. And I wondered if I’d ever see it again. When I pictured Dad all alone at our house, despair tugged at me. I remembered what he was like in the days following mom’s death. How he walked around wearing a lost expression, a perpetual black cloud hanging over his head. It would be too cruel for one man to endure so much loss.

Then I thought about Cooper. About how I’d admitted that I loved him. About how much I’d leaned on him in the past few weeks. It wasn’t right. He’d lost too much in life already as well. Why was I holding on to him when I knew I might leave him soon?

“Oh, I saw Cooper in the hall,” Dad interrupted my thoughts. “He’s heading out to take care of some stuff, but he’ll be back soon.”

It was time to do the right thing, to stop prolonging the inevitable. There was no way to make this easier for Dad. He was in it for the long haul no matter what. But I could do something about Cooper. It was only going downhill from here. Let him remember me when I could still function, when I could still laugh and joke, when I could still offer him something. “Dad, when Cooper comes back, I’d like you to keep him out of my room.”

“What?” Dad’s eyebrows knit together. “Why?”

Shrugging, I said, “I don’t think I should see him anymore.”

“But he loves you, honey.”

“I know. That’s exactly why I need to end this. I’m only hurting him.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “You’re not
only
hurting him. You’re also loving him and allowing him to love you. Pumpkin, love is a risk no matter what. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed to any of us, whether we’re sick or not. Your mom wasn’t sick when we left for the store that morning. Nothing was out of the ordinary at all.” He reached for my hand. “My point is that we never could have known what would happen. And if I had known I would lose your mom that day, I wouldn’t have loved her any less in the days leading up to it. Loving your mom has never been something I’ve regretted.”

A lump made its way into my throat. Dad’s eyes found mine, the rich brown eyes that had been watching over me my entire life. The eyes that had narrowed when I was bad, that had crinkled when I made him chuckle. The eyes that appeared concerned at times, and proud at others.

“London, I’m believing in a miracle for you. But I need you to know that if we don’t find one….” His voice wavered and he paused, pressing his lips together. “If we don’t find one, and I lose you I will still consider myself the luckiest man on earth because I had the privilege of loving two of the most amazing women in the world – you and your mom. And that’s something I will never regret.”

I sniffed, my fingers slick in dad’s hand. I rolled his words around in my head, but I didn’t need to think about them for very long. I knew he was right. Besides, Cooper was so persuasive, even if I tried to push him away he’d weasel his way back in. Not that I would have been able to stick to my guns for very long. I loved him too much to shut him out, no matter how noble my intentions.

Dad blinked back the moisture in his eyes. Smiling, he waggled his index finger at me. “And you can stop pretending in front of me, young lady. I can handle this. I’m not going to fall apart. I have some pretty wide shoulders. Let me carry this for you.”

Feeling ashamed at how I’d been behaving, I reached for him. “Dad, you are the…” I choked on the words. “You’ve always…” My throat was so thick it was almost impossible to shove the words through. “You have been…”

He moved forward, slipping his arms around me. “I know, pumpkin.” I pressed my cheek to his chest as he held me. His heart thumped beneath my skin while his hand rubbed my back. “I know.”

Cooper

When I returned, London was talking with her dad. I peeked into her room and saw the tears in her eyes, the tremble of her lower lip. Dexter had a similar expression. Ducking back into the hallway, I stood against the wall, giving them privacy. Frankly, it made me happy that she was actually opening up to her dad; that they were having a heart-to-heart. I knew it was something they both needed.

A doctor wearing a white lab coat walked with clipped strides past me. Two nurses pushed a man on a stretcher in the opposite direction. Across the hall, a couple stood talking with a doctor. Their faces were drawn and pale. The woman held her hand up to her mouth as if she was crying silently into her palm. My heart pinched.

I’d always hated hospitals, but I hated them even more now.

Bending one leg, I rested my head against the wall and shoved my hand into the pocket of my jeans. My fingers skimmed over the paper inside, and my heart skipped a beat. I didn’t want to come back until I had everything in order. Until I could give this to London. Adrenaline pumped through me as I waited with anticipation. There was nothing I liked better than surprising my girl. I loved the way her face lit up, the way her mouth curved into a broad smile that transformed her entire face. Other girls I’d dated expected gifts. They were like spoiled children on Christmas morning, always wanting more, and never satisfied with what they had. But London was nothing like that. She met everything I gave her with the same level of enthusiasm.

And this was going to be the best gift yet.

Dexter appeared in the hallway. When he spotted me, he walked in my direction.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s struggling today,” he said, his eyes flitting over my body. “Did you get it?”

I nodded, patting my pocket.

“And?” He raised one brow.

Grinning, I yanked the paper out of my pocket. It crinkled as I opened it. When I flashed it in his direction, a broad smile swept his face.

“Awesome. She’ll love it.” Dexter said. “And she could use some cheering up.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” I grinned.

Dexter’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, his face screwing up almost like he was going to cry. “I know, and I can’t thank you enough.”

I coughed, fighting back the emotion lodging in my throat. Before I could respond, Dexter wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into a hug. It was awkward and one-armed, but I appreciated it. He smacked me in the back gently, cleared his throat, and then backed away.

“I’m gonna head in.” I pointed toward London’s room with my thumb. “That okay?”

Sniffing, Dexter wiped his nose and nodded. With one last glance at him, I slipped into the room. London lie in the hospital bed, her face upturned, her eyes closed. The sheet came up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her middle as if she was hugging herself. She appeared so tiny and fragile in the bed. My heart squeezed. As I walked toward her, the paper in my hand trembled between my fingers. I plunked down into the seat next to London’s bed, and it shoved back a little, the legs scraping on the floor.

London’s eyes popped open, her neck craning in my direction. “Oh, hey.” She smiled lazily.

“It’s okay. If you’re tired you can sleep for a little awhile,” I encouraged her. “I’m not going anywhere.” As much as I wanted to give her the gift, I didn’t want her compromising her health.

“I was resting my eyes a minute, but I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

She nodded, the movement causing her pillow to rustle. “I’d much rather spend time with you than sleep right now.”

“Great, because I have something for you.” I clutched tightly to the paper in my hand, my palms filling with moisture.

“More hats?” she teased.

“You wish.” I scooted forward. “But no. I’ve given you all of mine. Besides, what I have today is a million times better than a hat.” Lifting the paper, I extended my hand.

“What is it?” Her fingers closed around one of the edges.

“Take a look.” I could hardly contain my excitement.

Her gaze connected with the paper, and her eyes narrowed, her brows furrowing. “Is this what I think it is?”

Swallowing hard, I nodded.

“But how? I mean, when?” She shook her head.

“After I found out you were sick, I asked your dad what I could do to help, and he said I could have my bone marrow tested. So I did. It was around the same time your dad was tested.”

“And you’re a match?” Her tone was one of awe. “How is that even possible?”

“Well…” I moved from the chair to sit on the edge of London’s bed. “The thing is that I’m not a perfect match, but I’m close enough.” After taking a deep breath, I continued, “Your doctor didn’t find any other matches in the registry, and you need the surgery as soon as possible. So, it looks like I’m your man.”

“In more ways than one.”

I chuckled, reaching for her hand. “I told you we would beat this together.”

A serious expression darkened her face. “But what about baseball?”

“There’s only three games left in the season.” I wove my fingers through hers. “Not that it matters. You’re more important than baseball.”

“Baseball means everything to you,” London argued.

“Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about this? I mean, it’s not like you’re donating blood.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. The bone marrow donation isn’t very difficult. It’s an outpatient procedure with a couple weeks of soreness. No big deal.”

“So we’re really going to do this?”

I nodded. “We’re really going to do this.”

“See, I told you,” she said with a victorious smile. “You are my savior.”

“Careful, you’re going to give me a big head.”

She giggled. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

“Hey.” I feigned offense.

“Just calling it like I see it.” London giggled again, and it made my heart soar. It was the happiest I’d seen her in days. That tiny seed of hope had grown into a full-fledged flower.

Nervousness wasn’t something I was used to.

I wasn’t a nervous guy. Sometimes other guys got nervous before our games, but I never did. Anxious, maybe, but in a good way. It was more like an adrenaline rush, and it always helped me play better. I’d never understood when guys would say that they felt like their stomach was filled with butterflies.

Until now.

Arriving at the hospital for my bone marrow harvest procedure, I was nervous as hell. And now I knew what it felt like. Let me tell you, it wasn’t a bunch of sweet, pretty butterflies in my stomach, it was a swarm of damn bumblebees. They were eating me alive.

Grandma placed a quieting hand on my arm as we checked in. “It’s going to be fine,” she spoke soothingly, the same way she did when I was sick. It usually calmed me, but today I wasn’t sure anything could. If only I could see London, then maybe I would feel better.

I saw her for a little while last night. The past two weeks she went through intense conditioning to prepare her body for today, so she hadn’t been feeling great, but she was in good spirits. She was hopeful. Still, I worried. What if the transplant didn’t work? What if it made her worse? All the words the doctor spoke to us during our appointments in preparation for today flew through my mind. Every statement, every word jumbled together, tangling like a million threads of yarn. But the one phrase that stood out above all the rest was: I am not a perfect match.

It was this phrase that plagued me, haunted me, mocked me. It whispered to me all night long, making sleep impossible to catch. I tossed and turned, worry holding me in its grip. What if I was making a mistake?

But it’s not like I had any choice. I may not have been a perfect match, but I was a match. And I was the only one.

I was London’s only hope.

And, damn, hope looked good on her. It brought the color back to her pale cheeks. It brought the light back to her eyes. I prayed it wasn’t misplaced. We were all desperate for a miracle.

Please let this be it.

After checking in, we sat down and waited to be called back. The nerves weren’t settling. I sat forward in my chair, struggling to take even breaths. My leg bounced up and down so violently it shook the chairs around me. My cell went off in my pocket, and I dug it out, my pulse spiking as I wondered if it was London. But it wasn’t. It was Nate.

Nate: Break a leg, dude.

Me: U know better than that.

It was a phrase we never used before a game. It may have been nothing but a superstition, but I worried that if we said it, it would come true. Breaking your leg was not something you wanted to do as baseball player.

Nate: lol

Me: Thanks tho.

Nate: Any time, bro. Text me later to let me know what’s up.

Me: I will.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and then resumed my leg bouncing.

Grandpa’s hand landed on my back as I leaned forward, resting my head in my hands. “We’re proud of you, Cooper. And I know that if your dad was here, he’d be proud of you too.”

My head snapped up, my eyes locking with Grandpa’s.

“You’ve worked so hard on baseball, son, and you’re the best ball player I know. Your dad would’ve been over the moon about that. But what you’re doing today shows what kind of man you are in here.” Grandpa pressed his palm to his heart. “If your parents can see you from heaven, I know their hearts are swelling with pride today.”

I pressed my lips together, blinking back the tears that fought to come out. After swallowing hard a few times, I successfully avoided a meltdown. Sighing, I sat back in my chair.

“You’re doing an amazing thing for London,” Grandma said.

Thoughts of my parents vanished, replaced by the image of London - about how frail and sick she was. Everyone was pinning their hopes on me. It was a huge weight to carry.

“I hope it works,” I muttered into my hands.

“That’s in God’s hands,” Grandma said. “All you can do is your part.”

I peered up at her. “What if it’s not enough?”

“Oh, Cooper, it’s always enough. You’re giving her the best gift anyone can give her – another chance at life. That’s huge.”

Nodding, I swallowed hard. “I want her to live.” Reaching up, I ran my fingers through my hair. “I want a guarantee.”

Grandma smiled. “Don’t we all? But there are no guarantees in this life. You know that.”

And I did know that. I knew that better than anyone. After my parents died, I used to replay our last conversation over and over in my head. Only I would change it, alter certain sentences. Like sometimes I would beg them not to go, and they would acquiesce. Afterward I would feel sick, wishing that was how it really happened. If I had begged them to stay, would they have? I’d never know.

I couldn’t save my parents, but with London I had a chance. It may not have been perfect, but it was a shot. And I had to take it.

It was like when we were down in the ninth inning and it seemed like the game was over, but I still played with all I had. I never gave up during the game, and I wouldn’t now.

I wouldn’t give up on London. Not even if she took her last breath.

Even then I’d fight for her.

“Cooper?” My head snapped up to Dexter. He stood in front of me wearing sweat pants, a wrinkled t-shirt. His hair was mussed, his eyes blood shot and tired.

I shot out of my chair. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he assured me. “I wanted to come to wish you luck.”

My chest tightened. I threw a silent prayer to the heavens
. Please god, let this work.

After saying hello to my grandparents he pulled me aside, asking if we could have a word in private. My stomach knotted with worry as we moved to a quiet corner. I leaned against the wall, staring into Dexter’s eyes.

He wrung his hands, turning his skin red. “That first time I saw you in my house I wasn’t sure about you, Cooper,” he started, his words slow and deliberate as if he was choosing each one carefully.  “You seemed like a nice guy, but I still worried, you know? I guess I never see London as a young woman. To me she’s always my baby.” His voice broke a little. I fought to keep my emotions in check. “But then you kept coming around, and I could tell you cared about her. What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad she met you. I’m glad you’re a part of our lives.” Moisture filled his eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Dexter. I’m doing this because I want to.”

“I know, and that’s why it means so much. To both me and London.”

“London getting better is all I want. That’s the only thanks I need.”

Dexter nodded. “I hope you get your thank you.”

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” I said earnestly.

“Me too,” he breathed the words out, and they sounded like a prayer.